OneShot
by twisted-coil
Summary: CandJ, there's been a spot of trouble on a trip, and Joe goes into overdrive. What happens when the security guard 'loses it? And is Clarisse the one who 'finds it? Literally, this one's about One Shot. Or not. o Please let me know what you think!


Looking up again from her book, Clarisse was irritated to find him still tugging at his cuffs. Tugging at his damn cuffs and still pacing the floor. She sighed, probably louder than was strictly necessary, and he looked up at her. No words were exchanged, but he got the message. Moving back towards the window, Joseph scanned the street below, his eyes flitting from one face to the next. The heat outside was still sweltering, the sun beating down unforgivingly on the sliding glass doors that were now warm to his touch.

She was reading again, pretending to be interested in some book or other, pretending to be unconcerned by this morning's events. Slipping his handkerchief from his pocket he discreetly wiped his brow, his eyes sliding shut as he did so. Today had been difficult, more so than usual, there was no point in denying it. And it wasn't even evening yet.

Clarisse looked up again, watching as he caressed the glass door with his fingertips, her attention suddenly drawn to their gentle sweeping motion. He was still on edge, still concerned. He pressed his forehead against the glass and undid the top button of his shirt. She looked back at her book.

OoOoOoOoO

Downstairs, the security team were still on high alert. The attempted assassination of the Genovian ambassador in Rome that afternoon had made no sense to anyone, and the shockwaves were still being felt. He had been accompanying Queen Clarisse to an audience with the Italian Prime Minister and the President of the Republic when the attack had occurred. Luckily, both Genovian officials had been travelling separately. The ambassador's car had received four gunshots through the windscreen, one fatally injuring the guard in the passenger seat, another lodging itself in the driver's arm. The Queen had escaped without injury, Joseph having instructed their driver to return back to the Embassy immediately.

On their return, few words had been spoken. Joseph had insisted the Queen return to her suite where she would remain under armed guard, whilst he began the investigation. Surprisingly, she had simply nodded her assent, and left the hallway with one of her maids.

After about an hour of phone calls and interviews, he had left the team to do their work. A collective sigh of relief had echoed around the round at his departure, and the security staff had begun to piece together the picture. It was likely that the attempt had been mere opportunism, nothing more, but then again, nothing less. Joe hadn't been convinced and had lost patience. Shades had been left in charge of locking down the Embassy and controlling access.

OoOoOoOoO

Closing her eyes slightly, Clarisse realised that her hands had stopped shaking. She smiled to herself, half amused at her own silliness, half still in shock at the day's events. To be honest, her memories of the shooting were as riddled as the other car's windscreen. She remembered hearing the first shot and the glass shatter, and then little else. Joseph had suddenly pulled her close and pushed her down into the leather seat, his body coming to lie heavily over here. For a second she had fought him, her initial response being to look and see the source of the shots, but then she had relaxed into the darkness now surrounding her.

She couldn't remember how long they had stayed like that, but she hadn't been afraid. It was only afterwards, as she had heard Joseph's gruff command and the car had lurched abruptly in the other direction, speeding them back to the Embassy, that she had begun to understand what had happened.

Slowly she had sat up, his arm still firm around her shoulders, and she had placed a hand on his chest to steady herself. He had looked her over quickly and ran a hand carefully through her hair, checking for injury,

"Alright?"

She had nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and then smiled weakly.

OoOoOoOoO

Again he looked at his watch, again he was annoyed to note that it was just after six. He was slumped now in the armchair by the main door to her suite, counting the scars on his fingers. Seventeen. Not bad for an old man. Still she was reading, still she was pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She looked up and caught him staring. She smiled, and he nodded, feigning distraction. Again he looked at his watch. Still just after six. Only another six hours and this damn day would be over. He sighed, hardly audible except to the trained ear,

"Joseph, are you alright?"

He looked up sharply and swallowed a little too obviously,

"Yes, I'm fine…just tired."

She smiled, knowing he was lying through his teeth, but deciding to leave it.

"Why don't you go and get some rest then?"

He looked away, back down at his hands.

"You know I can't."

Again she didn't question him. Since leaving the debriefing just after noon, he had been in her suite, insisting that she should not be left alone. Still he wouldn't explain to her what had happened that morning, still he wouldn't explain the nature of the threat. Little by little, she was beginning to lose patience, though she was trying hard to hide that small detail.

"I will, however, just go the bathroom…"

He smiled, and the cheeky grin suddenly relieved her beyond all reasonable measure. All day he had looked like a harbinger of death and now he had flashed her one of his special smiles. As he headed off towards the bathroom, she wondered why his sudden change of mood made her want to cry.

OoOoOoOoO

Splashing his face with cool water, Joseph immediately felt more human. Taking his watch off and setting it down on the counter next to his shirt, he carefully washed his hands and arms. Running a hand across his head, he allowed himself a deep sigh. He was exhausted. His head was throbbing and his throat tight and sore. His whole body was longing for sleep, but his mind was still on overdrive. Perhaps staying awake would be better for him in any case? He looked at himself in the mirror and wondered whether he would manage to escape the nightmares that he knew would visit him tonight.

OoOoOoOoO

The room was still stiflingly hot, and Clarisse decided that some fresh air would be a good idea. Sliding the heavy door open, she stepped out through the crack and onto the antique stone balcony. Her shoes long discarded, the warm terrace soothed her aching feet, and she began to relax. Outside, it really wasn't so unbearably hot, indeed, it was a beautiful evening by all accounts. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers across the rough stone of the balustrade, breathing deeply and absorbing the sounds of the city around her.

As the door flung open behind her, she jumped in shock, her body suddenly recoiling against the firm, almost cruel grip on her upper arm. Turning, as she was pulled roughly back into the room, she was simultaneously relieved and horrified to realise that it was Joseph. She caught her breath, and opened her mouth to speak, only to be met by the torrent of his angry words,

"What in God's name do you think you were doing out there? What the hell do you think happened this morning?"

His voice was almost unrecognisable, cutting and thick with anger. Her hands had begun to shake again. The initial defiance that had been in her eyes had now faded into a mixture of incomprehension and genuine fear. Still, he gripped her upper arms, still he was almost shaking her in his rage,

"For God's sake woman, someone is trying to kill you! And you go flaunting yourself out there for all to see! Maybe I should just pull out my gun and save any potential assassins the bother?"

She swallowed and tried desperately to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. He released her right wrist and wiped his brow roughly with his arm, his breathing still unsteady. His eyes never left her face, and for a moment she wondered what he might do. Never had he reacted like this before. Tears were now streaming treacherously down her cheeks and her eyes still shone with fear. Reaching out slowly, though, she placed her still shaky hand on his cheek. He flinched noticeably and she tried to find her voice,

"I…I didn't know…you…you…"

She stumbled over her words, not knowing quite what she was saying, but knowing that she couldn't bear the silence. He dipped his head and rubbed his eyes irritatedly. His breathing had calmed now and his previously painful grip on her left arm had eased to a supportive caress, his fingers absentmindedly soothing the pain he had caused.

In his eyes she could still see his anger, but there was something more. He was also afraid.

"Joseph?"

Whether he pulled her to him, or whether she pressed herself into his chest was unclear. Sobbing against him, she realised for the first time that he wasn't wearing his shirt anymore. As his strong arms curled round her back, and she felt his face bury into her hair, she tenderly kissed his collarbone.

OoOoOoOoO

He too was shaking now, guilt and relief washing over him in equal parts. He had overacted, that much was clear, but he still couldn't shake the images from his mind. Clarisse, slumped over the balcony, a single gun shot wound to her head; Clarisse, curled up against the glass door, blood seeping from her mouth; Clarisse, twisted against the leather car seat, a gun pointing at her temple as she looked at him, needing him to make it stop. He opened his eyes, trying to banish them all. Even after being with her for nearly ten years he had never seriously contemplated losing her, not really.

"Clarisse…"

Slowly she pulled back from his close embrace and looked up into his concerned eyes,

"I'm sorry…I, I shouldn't have said those things…I…"

She nodded, the fingers of her right hand sliding down his arm to entangle tightly with his.

"You were right…I didn't think."

He took a deep breath, and drew his eyes away from their joined hands, back to her tear-stained face.

"I know…but in any case, that wasn't how I should have reacted, I let…um…my emotions get the better of me."

She scrutinised his face, unconsciously stroking her thumb across his as she did so.

"I'm not planning on dying any time soon, you know, Joseph…"

She attempted a smile, and was pleased when he reciprocated the effort.

"It would make my job easier if you didn't…"

Still she couldn't quite look away, and for once she indulged herself,

"You've never reacted like that before, Joseph…what happened?"

His dark eyes widened a little, the honesty shining clearly,

"I never felt that scared before. I never…I never realised what it might mean if…"

She nodded, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his fingers, his sudden confession startling her a little.

Wrapping an arm around her, he was relieved though when she leant back into him, her own arm coming to wrap tightly around his waist. She had stopped crying now and for the first time since the attack, he felt truly calm.

"I'd never hurt you, you have to believe that…I couldn't…"

He felt her nod against him, and then the soft caress of her lips on his neck. Bringing his hand up to trace a line down her jaw, he gently tipped her chin towards him. His breath on her cheek was warm and reassuring,

"Clarisse, are you sure this is what you want…I mean…"

She smiled, her eyes sliding lazily closed, rubbing her face contentedly against his palm,

"Joseph…this, I mean you, you're what I want. And as poor as my timing is, I…"

"Sod the timing…"


End file.
